


Days of Thunder

by Somebodys_Nightmare



Series: Alone at Last [4]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children, On The Way To A Smile: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Cloti - Freeform, Cloud Strife is wild AF, Corny Safe Words, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gift Fic, Gratuitous Smut, Porn With Very Little Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Teasing, Vanilla Kink, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25498252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somebodys_Nightmare/pseuds/Somebodys_Nightmare
Summary: After coming home from a three-day trip, Cloud offers Tifa a challenge that takes their relationship to a new level. The storm outside Seventh Heaven that night might be the only thing that rivals the passion that erupts.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Series: Alone at Last [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789636
Comments: 49
Kudos: 181
Collections: Cloud and Tifa





	Days of Thunder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spaceOdementia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceOdementia/gifts).



> Alright soo first things first! This fic is a gift for my FFVII fandom bessssttiiie, the love of my dirty Cloti life, [spaceOdementia.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceOdementia/pseuds/spaceOdementia). No reason other than the fact that she is absolutely awesome. She is an amazing beta reader who has helped me find my passion for writing again, and honestly without her feedback and creativity and listening ears I would not have been able to get through the pieces I've written for this fandom, nor would I have started the many WIP that are littering my desktop with open Scrivener windows and causing me to neglect my family (ha ha... just kidding. I think). Not only that, but she is an amazing writer herself, and I have been so inspired by her work and so happy and overjoyed to read every word that's ever fallen from her fingertips! I hope you check her out. Anyway, BABY GIRL, THIS ONE'S FOR YOU!
> 
> Alright. This is another post-ACC one-shot in the Alone at Last series. This one has very little plot (I really didn't even try this time tbh) and it's just a lot of indulgent smut, I actually had to take a whole lot of breaks writing this one I was blushing so hard. Anyway, like the other fics in this series, this one takes its name from The Midnight song "Days of Thunder". You can check it out [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ep8bqyv0RPs).
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Days of Thunder

—————— 

CLOUD & TIFA

[ ν ] - εγλ - 2013 | July 21st 

When he walks through the door, Tifa is leaning over a table, pouring sangria into a pitcher in front of a giggling group of girls, the edge of her shorts pulling against the flesh of her thigh as she stretches to reach each of their glasses. She hears the creak of the door, but it’s mostly lost on her, the door has been opening all night. It’s Saturday, after all, and it’s almost midnight; the late-night crowd is still trickling in. It’s only when she hears his boots, their heavy weight on her wooden floorboards, their slow pace as they move closer and their vibrations reach her ankles, that she straightens her back and turns around.

He’s standing a couple of feet away from the front door, already staring directly at her. He’s drawn the eyes of a number of her patrons. Her regulars know him, but Saturdays always invite a unique crowd, and so his lean appearance that’s swathed in black, his wild hair, his glowing eyes, his massive sword - it all turns a few heads. He’s used to this, she knows. He’s been coming home again to these glances and stares for two and a half years now.

His eyes meet hers when she straightens and looks back at him, and something smolders in the air between them, a spark that crackles and runs across the floor between their feet like a live wire. Her lips pull back into a smile, and he smirks at her, before he crosses the room to the bar and slides onto his usual seat against the wall where he can turn and face the entire room and see everything that’s going on. There are a few other patrons at the bar, three men and a woman, but no one ever sits on Cloud’s stool. It is one of those unspoken truths about Seventh Heaven, a mythos of its legend, that the regulars are well familiar with and the new ones are quick to learn.

He also sits there so that he can watch _her_ , she knows. Tifa long ago told him she didn’t need him to hang around to be her bouncer, and he was well aware of this fact; he’d known that she didn’t need that kind of help since the first day he’d stumbled into the old Seventh Heaven back in Sector7 in Midgar, just a little over six years ago. That didn’t stop his wary, possessive side from lingering under the surface, displaying itself in the most passively aggressive ways, through his constant, ominous presence and the accompaniment of that violent-looking sword, from the intense stares he leveled at anyone who even looked like they might be thinking of attempting an ill-conceived move inside of her bar.

Cloud’s been gone for three days this time. He had an important meeting with a business client in Wutai, and they were always very ceremonious in that nation, not to mention the travel time alone was a drag. It’s been a long time since he’s taken a trip that lasts that long; with the expansion of his delivery service and his acquisition of new contractors, he’s usually home for dinner. Yet every so often he has to make these commitments, and Tifa completely understands.

Not that it isn’t frustrating, she thinks to herself as she rounds her way back to the bar where he sits, one foot propped up on the barstool, the other dragging against the floor as he leans one arm over the counter, waiting for her. The ceiling fans beat overhead, trying to whip a soothing and cool wind over the room that’s packed with customers. All of the bodies, their bloodstreams lined with alcohol, make it far hotter in here than it needs to be, even if it is the middle of July. Tifa wishes she lived in Junon, where the infrastructure was sound enough to support air conditioning units. But in Edge, everything was pieced together from scrap.

She drifts behind the bar and sees a line of sweat across his forehead. He’s been out there all day in the heat. She offers him a tiny smile, and leans forward towards him across the bartop, stretching her arms out to either side.

“It’s busy in here tonight,” he observes casually, his eyes on hers, sapphire blue sparked by viridian, locked on to her ruby red, tinged with flame. He cocks his head to the side a little bit. “Why don’t you hire some help, like I suggested?”

She bites her bottom lip and leans back up again, her smile straightening a little at the hard edge in his voice, the way it rolls out of his throat like gravel under tires. His eyes stay with hers for a moment, his stare intense, looking _into_ her, the way that only he can. She can’t look away, and then his eyes are falling downwards across her lips, her throat, over her breasts and waist and hips to where he can’t see what else she’s hiding behind the counter. She’s wearing a tank top and shorts, _short-shorts_ , because, well, it’s _hot_. The cotton of her shirt clings to her breastbone from the sweat, and the shorts are riding up from all of her long strides across the bar all night. His eyes linger at just the little bit of white space of the thigh beneath her shorts that he can make out from where he’s sitting.

She starts a response, but she hears the drawl of one of her regulars calling her name, as if to prove Cloud’s point. She sighs, offering him a remorseful look, and turns away before she can ask him what he wants to drink. She feels his eyes following behind her, burning a hot trail that elongates and stretches between them. She stops at the patrons’ table, two older gentlemen who would like to graduate their beers to whiskey. She scoops up their mugs while they both wash her with appreciative smiles, the kind that men who are far gone from their primes and are verging on the edges of heart disease and bad prostates always save for pretty young women - admiring and just beyond the border of inappropriate. Tifa offers her classic, friendly bartender smile back at them, one that has been practiced and perfected in the space of a decade, one that tugs her full lips up, but doesn’t reach her eyes. She visits two more tables, picks up gil left on a third, and waves good night to the sangria girls who sing their laughter into the hot night air before she returns to the bar.

As soon as she turns around, she catches his stare again. He’s in the same spot he was before, but he’s turned away from the countertop again so that he can watch her move across the room. She stops a little when their eyes meet; his are steely and dark, like a storm, shadowed to midnight blue. Her cheeks flare, and she averts her eyes, coming around the counter to drop the mugs into the sink and to store the cash in the till. His eyes stay on her, and she can feel something expectant behind them, boring into her.

“You hungry?” She asks him.

He dips his head at her. “Nah,” he lets out slowly. His eyes are on her lips.

Tifa licks them, not on purpose of course, but because that’s just what he does to her. He unnerves her and makes her behave foolishly, makes her forget where she is and how she is supposed to act.

“A drink?” she asks him, and he nods, so she turns and grabs the whiskey he likes, pouring his tumbler before filling the glasses of the two patrons who are waiting for her. She slides it to him, and he catches it in his gloved palm, his irises reeling hooks into hers.

“You want me to help you out for a while?” he asks softly, picking up his drink and gesturing it to the crowd; there are still at least two dozen people crowded into her small establishment, and she’s closing in about an hour.

Tifa shakes her head. “No, Cloud. I’ve got it. You should relax. Enjoy the rest of your drink, and go check on the kids. Make sure they’re actually asleep.”

Cloud narrows his eyes at this, almost like he’s annoyed. She knows he wants to help, but he’s been working for three days straight, and a handful of customers on a Saturday night is _mundane_ to her. She moves to refill his glass as she hears another patron call out for her. She shelves the bottle and gives him a warm smile to reassure him.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she ventures to him in a quiet, sweet voice, a tone that’s reserved only for him. His brow softens a little at that, and he tilts his head to one side as his eyes study her face, losing some of their murkiness, the midnight shifting into zaffre.

“Me too,” he finally agrees, his eyes falling to her lips again.

Tifa blushes and moves away from him, checking on the group of customers who are sitting next to him at the bar; they’re ready to pay their tabs and head out. She feels his eyes branding her the entire time she moves to collect the gil, count it, and store it in the till, feels the heat of his scrutiny on her shoulders, her back, her hips. Tifa doesn’t know why Cloud’s watchful looks on her have always been so magnetically charged; she’s been aware of them since their days back in Sector7 together. But as they’d grown closer over the years, his glimpses had only grown deeper and more crushing, like he was hitting her soul with lasers and daggers every time he glanced at her. She could feel wherever his attention would land on her, heat hitting those parts of her body and blooming across the rest of her entire form.

Usually, she likes it when he watches her work from the bar like this. It’s never quite as intensely unsettling as it is tonight. Normally, he doesn’t stare so openly and possessively. Most times, his gaze is shy and warm, leaving her feeling giddy inside and quietly loved. He’ll keep his eyes on his drink or his PHS, glancing up at times to steal a gaze at her, and sometimes their eyes will meet. But tonight, he’s watching her like a hawk, ready to pounce, disposed for the kill. It makes her already clammy skin bloom all over with heat, makes her slick between her legs.

Tifa and Cloud have been with each other in perhaps the most traditional sense for just over two years, since Cloud and Denzel were cured of Geostigma, since Cloud was cured of his own stigma of guilt and failure and self-loathing, and they found themselves in each other’s arms, entrenched in a pool of gratitude, affection, and forgiveness. They don’t really have words for what they are - Cloud had used the word _together_ one night after they made love, asking her for her confirmation, and she nodded in agreement, falling into the circle of his arms with elation. She remembers the time they were checking into a hotel in Junon not long ago, and the concierge had innocently referred to her as his _wife_ when asking him about the accommodations. She remembers how her body turned into molten puddles when he didn’t correct the employee, and simply answered the question. _What does that mean?_ She remembers wondering. She ponders that question all of the time.

Of course, she never brought it up to him, and even though she wanted to tease him at first, she was too terrified of where the conversation might lead.

Cloud’s always been so tender with her, so protective, so sweet and careful. As their relationship developed after he returned home, the world seeming to fall into some sense of calm around them, Tifa found a rhythm with Cloud and the kids, and their family life became as normal and ordinary as she could ever hope. 

There are some nights, though, that Cloud’s tenderness spills over into bloodlust, his protectiveness oozes into possession, sweetness and care turning rough and reckless. On those nights, she’s left bruised and bitten and flushed, crying and keening into his embrace as she tumbles from the precipice of a release that never seems like it’s quite possible until it happens. Only then does he soothe her again with that familiar tenderness under his touch, sweet nothings falling from his lips like the mist after a downpour.

Tonight feels like one of those nights. Tonight, though, feels even heavier, because he’s carrying lightning under his gaze. She guesses maybe three long days is responsible for the electricity and the strain undergirding his mood.

As if reading her thoughts, thunder blares outside, and the sky beyond Seventh Heaven’s windows opens and lights up white, threatening rain. She hears some of her patrons groan. In her peripheral, she sees Cloud drain his glass and rise, his eyes still on her, and she knows they haven’t left her body since the last time she dared chance a glance at him. She’s on the other side of the room, wiping down a table that a group just vacated, and Cloud gives her a nod, indicating the stairs, where he turns to depart, leaving her to finish for the night on her own. His heavy boots send small shockwaves through the wood, the dark cape over his right leg shifting gently with each long glide of his legs.

The rain starts to attack the windowpanes and the siding of the building, and patrons start to file out after leaving their gil for Tifa to collect on their tables. A few linger, not eager to drift into the downpour, and Tifa continues to serve them; last call isn’t for another twenty minutes or so. She straightens up what she can and locks the front door, flipping the sign to _Sorry, We’re Closed_ to keep out any last-minute barflies, and drifts behind the bar to check the time.

Slipping her PHS from where she keeps it charging under the counter, she’s surprised to see it aglow with a waiting text message. She swipes to open it, and is even more surprised to find the note is from Cloud.

_What’s something you really want, but you never thought you’d do?_

She blinks, mystified by the question. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to her. What is he asking her, exactly? One part of her, the part that’s deciphered the way he’s been staring at her all night, already has an idea what he might be asking. She bites her lip just thinking about it, and feels a hot wave of energy pass over her body, bursting against the flesh between her thighs.

She also knows, as she steadies herself against the bar’s countertop, that Cloud is never that forward, or that obvious, at least not with words, even when he’s in one of his more… frenzied moods. 

She thinks for a moment. She’s been through and experienced so much in her short life that it’s hard for her to come up with a decent response. Finally, she lets her fingers skirt across the display.

_swim with dolphins_

She puts the PHS down, sees a patron wave to her. As she’s about to move, the device lights up again.

_You know that’s not what I mean, Tifa._

Tifa’s always amazed at his perfect use of grammar and punctuation in text messages. Cloud hates texting, hates speaking on the PHS even more, despises everything about telecommunication period. Yet somehow, he manages to execute such precise skill at this unremarkable and prosaic daily task. She grasps his tone immediately, seeing the way her name, perfectly capitalized, is preceded by a comma that urges pause. She sets the PHS back under the counter, her neck hot. She tends to her customer, who is ready to settle his bill, and she collects the gil and the dishes and wipes down the table as he steps out into the wet weather. When she gets back to the counter, her crowd has died down to just a handful of lingerers, and she announces last call.

She slides the PHS back from under the counter and scans the screen. The text still stares up at her, waiting for her reply. She traps her bottom lip between her teeth, tasting her own lip gloss, her knee suddenly buckling under her as she thinks about what she wants from him, thinks about the way his eyes fell on her when he walked through the front door, the way he watched her every move as she worked, the way his eyes flashed when she told him she didn’t need his help around the bar. 

Another pair of customers are rising to leave, and Tifa makes a decision. She types a swift reply.

_I don’t want to be in control. I want to be at your mercy._

She thinks maybe he’ll appreciate her own effort at punctuation in that one. She watches the PHS for a moment, but it doesn’t light up again, and she’s got customers to see out and a bar to clean.

She ushers off the last few remaining patrons and clears the tables, bringing the dishes back to the sink for washing. She wipes the tables, pulling the sweat from her brow, feeling the exhaustion beginning to reveal itself in her muscles and her bones as she works, as she stacks the chairs on top of the tables, as she washes the glasses in too hot water that dries out her hands, as she stacks them overhead to dry and wipes down the bar before tossing the dishrag to the side, finished. 

She makes her way upstairs after hitting the lights, rolling her shoulders and hearing cracks. At the landing, she notices that the kid’s bedroom door is slightly ajar, the glow of a night light filtering against the floorboards. She rounds the corner of the doorjamb and peers inside, her mouth pulling into a warm smile at the corners.

Cloud is sitting on Marlene’s chair in the center of the room, his hands draped over his knees, watching the kids sleep. Mostly, he’s watching Marlene, the angle of his body facing hers where she snores under the pink and white comforter on her bed. He’s out of his day clothes now, wearing gray sweats and a white tee-shirt; his hair looks mussed and is still a little damp from his shower. Hearing Tifa step into the room, he rises, carefully pulling the chair backward towards Marlene’s desk without making a sound. He takes a step towards her, raising his finger to his lips, and Tifa steps back into the hallway, watching him as he closes the door behind him quietly.

“Marlene was awake,” he informs her, and she sees that the faint, seafoam glow around the rim of his pupil is receding, but the blue in his eyes is murky and darkening with every pulsing moment. “I had to sit there to make sure she fell asleep. She was playing a game under the covers, and then I caught Denzel trying to read with a flashlight. Not that there’s anything wrong with reading,” he quickly clarifies, “But it’s really late.”

Tifa feels a different kind of warmth envelop her, this one bright and colorful and cheery, like the rays of the sun on her face. She lets out a little giggle at his words, and brings her hand up to cup his cheek.

“You’re such a great dad.”

He blushes then, looking away from her. She gazes affectionately at his face; it’s so boyish when he’s like this. Not like the man who was openly scrutinizing her not long ago downstairs.

As if reading her thoughts, Cloud suddenly takes her wrist, forcing her to look up at him. His grip is tight, and she feels her skin inflamed by the flesh of his bare hand.

“Did you finish everything downstairs?”

Tifa blinks. “O-of course,” she stammers, taken somewhat aback by his question.

Something flickers behind the blue waves in his eyes. “Why, Tifa? I’ve told you over and over again I can at least do the dishes when I get home. Or sweep.”

Cloud usually sounds like he’s whining when he complains about wanting to help out more, but right now, he sounds like he’s growling.

“It’s fine, Cloud,” she says, and she still feels the heat of his palm searing her wrist, scalding her. Something in his face tells her he doesn’t think it’s fine at all. She swallows, then gives her head a little shake. “You had a long day, _three_ days. You should relax.”

He releases her wrist, and she sees a resolve pass through his expression, his face and his eyes both softening and settling into stone at the same time. He leans forward, dropping his face by her ear, his lips barely caressing the shell of it. He takes a few steps forward, backing her against the opposite wall of the hallway, her back disrupting a photograph of Barret and Cid that was taken in front of the _Shera_ a few years ago as she falls back against it. He raises his arm above her head and flattens his palm against the wall above her, caging her beneath his body as he leans closer to her, his irises royal blue flames. 

“Go shower and put on that purple set,” he whispers, his breath hot against her skin, emanating across the ridge of her throat, swaying her earring in its wind. She blinks as he leans back again, pulling his arm away, his eyes connecting with hers, blazing blue and verdant, and she knows she’s stopped breathing. “I’m just going to go downstairs and get us a drink.”

Tifa nods, hearing the rain scatter across the shingles on the roof above as Cloud turns and makes his way down the hall towards the stairs, flicking the lights back on in the bar below.

* * *

Tifa makes quick work of her shower, turning the water as cool as she can stand it to tamp down the raging desire that is crashing across her as she anticipates stepping into the bedroom with Cloud. It doesn’t help. She tries to push him from her brain, but it’s like trying to step gracefully out of quicksand. She just keeps getting pulled right back in.

After scrubbing the day’s sweat and labor from her skin and washing her hair clean, she dries and leaves the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, and peers at the staircase, seeing the light still on downstairs. She tiptoes down the hall into their bedroom.

Once inside, she rifles through her underwear drawer for the set he wants her to wear. Tifa doesn’t own much lingerie, because it simply isn’t practical nor does it suit her needs, and they’re not exactly made of money to be buying luxuries that she doesn’t even really care for. But she does own a few special pieces that she bought to wear for him, simple but still provocative, like this one, a deep violet bra and panty set that is all sheer lace. She’d never wear it anywhere but to fuck, and she’d only worn it once before, when they’d gone to that hotel in Junon and Cloud had let everyone within earshot carry on their lives with the assumption that she was his wife. That night had been wild, she recalls, and it hadn’t felt anywhere near as charged as tonight currently did.

As she holds the delicate fabric up in front of her, admiring its penetrating contrast against her skin, she realizes that no night has been charged like tonight. Tonight, Cloud’s mood was somewhere between ravenous and completely on edge. 

And she’d given him permission to take her control away.

As she pulls on the set, she feels her heart pound violently against her chest, lodging itself into her throat.

* * *

Cloud makes her wait nearly thirty minutes in the bedroom. Never in the history of the world did it take anyone damn near an hour to make drinks. It’s even more appalling when he enters the room with just an open bottle of whiskey and two tumblers in hand.

She gapes at him as he walks in without a care in the world, setting the glass on the bedside table. She’d had half of mind to throw on her robe and traipse downstairs to find him, but part of her wanted to experience the thrill of him walking in and finding her on the bed in the ensemble he’d wanted her to wear. But now, after the unnecessary wait, she’s teetering on the edge of annoyance. 

A crack of thunder erupts outside, and the room filters purple with lightning, highlighting the violet of the fabric that shields her breasts and her core from him. He’s facing her now, the bottle of whiskey in one hand, hanging down by his side as his eyes drink her in, openly roving her body. His admiration starts with her eyes, carries across her face, and traverses the curves that wind their way to her feet, tucked behind her on the comforter of their bed. He licks his lips, just a faint dart of pink slipping out his mouth. Tifa feels the wetness begin to stain the underwear she just put on.

Cloud lets his stare linger for a moment longer before he twists the cap off of the whiskey and pours them both drinks, handing her one glass. She stays on the bed, and he drags the chair from her vanity across the room and slides it next to the side of the mattress, sitting down right in front of her with his tumbler in one hand. His knees are spread open, his arms draped across the tops of his thighs as he settles comfortably in the chair, openly admiring her with the intensity of freshly pressurized diamonds.

Feeling crushed under the weight of his contemplation, Tifa feels herself grow warm, and tries to battle it away by bringing the glass to her lips. It’s a mistake. She should be drinking ice water, she quickly realizes as the whiskey burns its way down her throat. The flush covering her body is instantly brightened by the kiss of alcohol in her blood, and her cheeks feel as hot as if they’d been sunburnt.

Cloud watches her and brings his glass up to drink, his eyes back at her face. Feeling his intensity, Tifa takes a second, much deeper sip, needing will for her nerves. Cloud is watching her as she drinks, his head cocking to one side again. She wonders why he’s sitting in that chair across from her, and not on the bed beside her.

The way neon green flares against the electric blue around his pupils begins to answer her question. He sips his whiskey again before he leans closer to her over his knees.

“You’re beautiful, Tifa,” he tells her, his voice low and mellow, caressing her with a shiver, leaving her skin pinpricked and raised with gooseflesh.

She blushes at him, the corner of her lips toying at a smile, and his eyes leave hers again to wander her shape, to consider the way she lays across the bed, propped up on her elbows with her legs folded beneath her, kittenlike. 

“You’re also really stubborn.”

His voice is rough when he says that, and Tifa pouts at him, the blush on her cheeks darkening. She doesn’t know why he’s bringing that up, now, of all times. She thinks back to his insistence that she hire someone to help around the bar, but even though their cash flow is strong these days, she doesn’t see why they should increase their overhead when she’s more than capable of running the place on her own. She thinks about how he scolded her for not letting him wash the dishes or sweep up the place. She wishes he wouldn’t worry so much. He has enough on his plate.

He drains his glass; leans over to set it to the side. She sips hers again, and he takes it out of her hand after she empties it, and places it on the bedside table next to his, before he slides the chair even closer to the bed.

“Come here,” he gives her a coarse command, and he leans forward towards where she’s crouched on the bed, his eyes bright and cobalt, flecks of emerald glowing in the darkness. She swallows back the whiskey, feeling another rush of heat and the edging away of her inhibitions, and crawls towards him on the bed, until their faces are inches apart.

Cloud reaches up with his hand, veiny with long, calloused fingers, and gently grips her chin, pulling her face closer to his. Tifa’s eyes are now locked with his, and she finds herself drowning in a sea of ocean blue, the waves pulling her under and holding her there, never to breathe air again. His lips find hers, his kiss gentle at first, in disagreement with the torrential current that is lying in wait behind his gaze. She lets her eyes fall shut as he deepens the kiss, unable to stare back any longer, and loses herself in the sensations his mouth begins to pull from her body. His tongue slides past her teeth, dancing against her own, and suddenly there’s a passion, an aggression that is rising like the tides as the moon pulls them to shore. His grip tightens on her chin, digging into her flesh, his fingers splaying across her cheek to hold her mouth tight against his as his kisses take on a ravishing fervor, as he sucks at her tongue and nips her lips with his teeth. Tifa feels the heat in her body rise and flare, erupting from somewhere deep in her belly and spreading in every direction, warming the most intimate parts of her body as she pitches forward, half of her body leaning off of the bed and practically in his lap as she tries to get closer to him. She needs to feel every part of him, she realizes urgently as his free hand is trailing down her shoulder, grazing the skin of her arm. She needs him to make her _whole_.

Her kisses had grown wild in response to his by that point, and Cloud suddenly breaks their lips apart, the hand that’s at her chin sliding to her shoulder so that with both hands, he can push her back onto the bed. She sits back in front of him, spreading her legs a little, staring back into his eyes, her chest heaving to capture the breaths she couldn’t inhale when he was kissing her senseless. His eyes trail over her, leaving where his gaze is locked with hers to consider her lips and then the long curves of her body. She notices him observing the deep purple lace, his irises flickering. He pauses for a moment, drinking her in that way as if he is trying to consume her very soul with his eyes, before he reaches forward and grabs her ankles, pulling her down to the edge of the bed until her bottom is between his knees and her legs are dangling around him where he holds them tight against his sides. Propped up on her elbows, she tosses a tiny smile at him, knowing how spread open she is for him, nothing but a thin layer of sheer fabric keeping him from her.

“Lay back,” he instructs, leaning forward in his chair; his groin is inches from her core. He reaches down to grip the hem of his shirt, lifting the fabric and pulling it over his head with one hand, giving her a wide-open view of the defined slopes of his chest and arms. She can feel the heat of him, but their bodies are too far apart for her to feel his erection, and it makes her ache. She bites her bottom lip and lays back against the bed, and her hair spills like a tipped inkwell around her shoulders as she sinks into the sheets. She looks up at the ceiling, anticipation suffocating her as if it were an anvil on her chest.

“Stay just like that,” Cloud dictates low in his throat, his eyes on her neck. “Don’t move, and don’t do anything unless I tell you to.” His right hand has moved to the inside of her thigh, and is rubbing it up and down.

Tifa lets out a slow, steady breath, trying to calm herself. She closes her eyes to the ceiling, unable to stare at its dull eggshell hue any longer while he slowly tortures her, commanding her in a voice that’s pure aggression, trying to hold itself back.

“Tifa,” he suddenly calls to her, and his tone is less grumbly, is crisp and clear. She snaps her head up to look at him.

He squeezes the inside of her thigh gently. “If anything bothers you…” he looks down, and Tifa realizes he is blushing slightly, “Just say, uh, Fenrir.”

Tifa laughs, then instantly covers her mouth. Cloud’s eyes snap back up at her, and his blush darkens, but his eyes have lost their momentary softness and are dark and libertine again, ready to tear her apart. She drops her head back to the mattress, biting her lip to stifle the giggle, just as she feels his free hand rove up her belly.

“Tifa, don’t make a sound,” he cautions her, his voice in competition with the thunder outside.

Tifa breathes in, and pinches her eyes shut just as she feels the rough skin of his fingertips curl near the underside of her right breast, his palm wrapping around the lace-covered flesh, giving it a squeeze, while his right hand slides further, aimlessly, up the inside of her thigh. She inhales carefully, feeling his thumb brush across her nipple, pebbling it into a stiff knot where it’s trapped under the fabric. He rubs slow, tentative circles around it, then pinches it between two fingers, causing her to gasp a moan into the space between them.

“Shhhh,” he chastises her immediately, giving her breast a rough squeeze. She can feel his eyes back on her face, lasers that are burning her flesh away. She doesn’t dare look up and meet those fiery pools. “I said, stay quiet.”

She lets out the breath she was holding, thinking he can’t possibly be serious. _He can’t._

As Cloud’s left hand continues to squeeze and caress her breast, working at the nipple with his fingers, the hand between her legs is pressing strokes along the crease where her thigh meets her mound, trapped beneath the tiny piece of purple fabric. Tifa closes her eyes, thinking that she never realized how long and graceful his fingers were before, not until he was dragging them across her skin like this, drawing patterns of lightning across her flesh. His fingertips are creeping along the hem of her panties, pulling at the fabric and letting it snap gently back into place across her pussy, which she knows is already slick and wet for him, darkening the lace material with a stain that is likely very obvious to him from where he is sitting. All of this makes her wild and feral, impatient and hot, and she rolls her hips towards his hand, trying to coax his fingers where she wants them.

“Stay still,” he growls at her.

Tifa suppresses a moan, bites her bottom lip when he squeezes her nipple again between his thumb and index finger before abandoning it and crossing his hand over to her right breast, beginning the same, tantalizing torture there, brushing against the nipple, hardening it before he squeezes the entire peak.

Below, his fingers have hooked inside of her panties, and his knuckles are digging softly into the tight ring of heat, plunging into her wetness there. She thinks she hears him chuckle deep in his throat, but it’s difficult to make out over her labored breathing, especially as she is trying with increasing difficulty to suppress any moans from seeping out of her throat. He avoids her clit, instead turning his hand so that he can dip a finger halfway inside of her, pulling at her entrance to stretch her slowly.

It’s too much. “Oh, Cloud,” she sighs into the air.

Cloud pushes his finger deeper, leans forward so that she can see his eyes, blazing blue and green above her. He’s sitting at the edge of his seat. “I’m not going to tell you again, Tifa,” he warns.

Their gazes lock, and lightning strikes again outside, the rain battering the windows with a fresh and sudden downpour. But what crackles and flashes outside is incomparable to the beacons that shine and flare from his sharp sapphires into her molten rubies, and she bites her lips, a fresh, frenzied thrill igniting her bones. Tifa closes her eyes in distress to avoid his stare.

Cloud pulls his finger out of her, then slides the panties aside, leaving her fully exposed to him. He lifts his hand that was toying her breast away, letting it trail down her abdomen, squeezing her waist, before it rests at her hip, holding her in place against him. His free hand, still slick with her wetness across his knuckles and his forefinger, stretches down to grasp her right leg and bring it up and over his shoulder. She opens her eyes again to watch as he presses slow, tender kisses to the inside of her calf, his forearm wrapped around her leg, his hand locked around her ankle, and her heel resting on his shoulder. She suddenly feels as sexy as he is always telling her she is, especially when she watches his tongue dart out of his mouth to run across the expanse of skin that leads from the top of her calf muscle to the back of her knee. When he leans forward to bite her inner thigh just a few inches above, she snaps her eyes shut until she feels tears, and she’s begging the gods to spare her and to keep her hips from rolling and grinding towards him in the ways she desperately wants to.

_What is he doing to me?_

His hand that was at her opposite hip has moved lazily across her belly, and hovers above the fabric that is still taut across her mound. He grazes his fingertips there, still pressing kisses up and down the inside of her leg, still nipping and biting with his teeth, and Tifa shivers; the teasing is too much, what she wants is too close. Slowly, without warning, he lowers his fingers just a couple of inches, splitting her folds without much difficulty, and barely lets the pad of his index finger graze the side of her clit.

Tifa loses it.

She wails out his name, pushing her hips up in a violent whirl, trying desperately to chase the high and the release her body has wanted for hours. Immediately, Cloud makes a low, wolfish sound in his throat, and pulls his hand away. He drops her leg and then leans forward, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck, scooping her up off of the bed in his arms and pulling her into his lap as he sits back more comfortably against the chair. As soon as she’s straddling him, Tifa seeks relief by grinding her hips against him in slow, lazy circles, instantly feeling the stiff ridge of his erection through his sweats. But Cloud cuts off her seeking sway, grasping her hips roughly in his palms and halting her, digging divots into her flesh.

“Stop,” his voice is rough, commandeering, and it clashes with the rain outside, which is still beating the windows and the roof senseless.

Tifa wants to cry, badly. She drops her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder, not sure of what to do. It’s so bad she considers using the safe word. That just seems ridiculous, even though she could weep where she sits, his hard length pushed right up against her where she wants it, shielded only by soft fabric. How was he keeping so much control? And how vanilla did you have to be to use a safe word just because you were being relentlessly teased?

She knows, at that moment, that she had no idea what she was getting herself into when she responded to his text message earlier that night.

Cloud is suddenly pressing light kisses to the shell of her ear, flicking her earring with his tongue, causing her to tremble violently in his arms, until his mouth trails those kisses to her lips, seizing her with one that is deep and hot with desire. She responds eagerly, but he tears away before they can fall into a rhythm, gripping her chin between his fingers again as his eyes lock with hers, smoldering her into ash.

“You’re being naughty tonight, baby girl,” he whispers, his eyes not leaving hers.

Tifa doesn’t know how to react, just feels her bottom lip quiver. His lips turn up into a smirk; he’s watching for her reaction. She tries to breathe, but she feels like there’s fire raining on her, singeing her skin and flaying it right off. A peal of lightning rages outside the windows, and she jumps; Cloud tightens his arm around her, pressing her to him.

“I-I’m sorry,” is all she can manage, hoping to the holy god of Judgment Alexander that that is enough to mollify him.

It isn’t. As she tries to regulate her breathing, he’s nudging her cheek sweetly with his nose while he chuckles enigmatically, low in his throat, and then he’s shifting her body above his, pushing and pulling her limbs until she is lying face down across his lap, her dark hair spilling out onto the floor in a curtain of black, her legs dangling over the other side of him. Her belly is in his lap, and her rear, full, toned curves still wrapped amethyst lace, is facing up at him.

Tifa’s brain isn’t working properly. The heat that’s been pooling inside of her, seeking an egress, is now raging through every nerve ending of her body, threatening to split her apart. She can feel his fingertips hovering over the curve of her ass, toying at the hem of her panties where it digs into her flesh. She reaches back to grab his ankle, needing anything to hold onto.

“You okay?” he asks her from above, his voice soft and sensual, checking on her, making sure she’s alright, like always.

Tifa crimps her eyes shut, stifling a whimper. “Yes,” she finally breathes, hearing her own voice shake and splinter.

Cloud’s left hand is on her back, caressing her flesh soothingly. His other hand has a palmful of her ass in hand, and is squeezing it gently. She waits a long moment, anticipation building in her like the kindlings of a fire, before she finally feels the vibrations of his chest against her body when he speaks again.

“Why are you so stubborn, Teef?” he asks, and his voice is almost playful, but it’s laced with something dark that fills her with dread. She lowers her face, blushing, but still wanting to be comforted by his boyishly handsome face right now. “Why don’t you listen to me? You work too hard around here.”

As the words leave his lips, he slaps his open palm across her bottom, and she gives a tiny yelp, kicking her legs behind her. He isn’t too rough or hard with her, uses just enough force to leave a slight sting, one that chases the fevered heat with renewed fervor across her flesh, plunging it straight into her belly and down to her core. Instantly, his hand drops back down to rub her flesh tenderly, soothing the sting away. She tips her head down towards the floor.

“I don’t - I -“

Cloud gives her rear another swat, and she squirms, awash in the most mystifying feeling of vulnerable delight she’s ever experienced, as he palms and rubs away the red heat that he’s just seared onto her skin. She squeezes his ankle again.

“You should just let me take care of you, Tifa,” he tells her, his baritone soft and vibrating the parts of her insides where she wants him deep. She rolls her hips in his lap as he spanks her a few more times like that, alternating with tender kneads of her flesh, and all Tifa wants to do is sit on his dick and rub herself against him until she explodes into stardust.

She feels his hand drift away from her back until it’s finding its way into her hair, his fingers tangling in her tresses, gripping a fistful of it and wrapping it around his wrist until he’s gently pulling on her, lifting her head away from where it hangs by the floor. Tifa uses her arms to grasp the chair’s legs as leverage, feeling her neck and her back arch backward. Cloud’s free hand slides away from her sore bottom and drifts between her thighs, pushing her legs open over his lap, bending one knee slightly to spread her wide. Her pussy is still exposed where he’d pulled her panties to the side earlier, and his fingers drift over her slit, pulling her folds open until she can feel the trapped wetness that’s been pooling there slide out in a thick, swirly gush across his digits.

“Fuck, Tifa,” Cloud almost moans in response, and Tifa hears the shock registering in his voice. She feels her cheeks flame red with fire, and she’s instantly glad he can’t see her face. “You like that, huh?”

“Only you,” she hears herself replying.

That seems to do it. Suddenly, his fingers are inside of her, one, then quickly two, digging deep in her wet heat, pushing until he presses against a spongy patch of flesh that causes her to sing out a wail so wanton it hurts her throat. She rocks her hips back against him, wanting more, needing it. He doesn’t protest against her sounds this time, so she makes more.

“Please, Cloud!” She cries like he’s threatening her life.

Cloud’s fingers scissor inside of her and build a slow, pumping tempo, but he doesn’t do what she wants, what she _knows he knows_ she wants. She kicks her legs out behind her like a tantruming child, wanting to assault him, to send her fists across his face and to roundhouse him across the room. She tries again.

“Cloud, _please_ … I want it. _Please_ …”

He makes a low, grousing sound, deep somewhere in his throat, and just as the rain picks up again outside with fresh, pelting force, Cloud drops his thumb to rub circles on her clit, keeping his longer fingers still wedged inside of her.

Tifa wails, finally feeling the sweet, sweet sensation of pleasure roll through her from where she’s been wanting it desperately for what now feels like her entire life. She sends her gratitude through the air in frantic, high pitched cries, and he pulls back gently on her hair again, causing her to arch her back as she rolls and grinds her hips against his hand. She calls out his name, feeling herself coil tight, the precipice not far away on the horizon.

Without warning, Cloud stops, disentangling his fingers from her hair, pulling his hand away from between her legs. Tifa’s mind registers this with wild panic, even as she feels him reaching for her arms, righting her and helping her back up, off of his lap.

“ _No!_ ” She screams at him in despair, and Cloud catches her wrists and pins them in front of him, keeping her from hitting him in the face.

“Relax,” he says calmly. “I’ve got you.”

Tifa’s eyes are blind with tears. She opens her mouth to respond, to curse him, but he’s lifting her in his arms, lowering her to the bed again, kicking the chair away behind him. As soon as he lowers her to the bed, he reaches forward and hooks his fingers into the hem of her panties, sliding them down her hips, discarding them somewhere she can’t see. She arches her back, and in response, he climbs over her to help dispatch her bra, freeing her sore breasts, the nipples hard from her body’s electrified want.

As he’s hovering above her, their eyes meet. Cloud catches the tears in her eyes, and Tifa sends all of the rage and desire she’s feeling at him through her crimson glare. She sees him soften a little, sees the wildness edge out of the set of his jaw, sees the boy who’s always wanted to take care of her peer back at her. He lifts one hand to brush the tears from her cheek; his other gives her hip a little squeeze.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promises her, and she crimps her eyes shut, the tears of frustration flowing down the sides of her face.

Cloud lowers himself between her legs, hooking his arms under her thighs, and pushes her legs up over his shoulders, pressing his palms against her lower abdomen and locking her into place around him. Tifa trembles, saying a tiny prayer in the back of her head, and Cloud lowers his tongue to her opening, dipping inside to gather all of her leaking wetness, before dragging his tongue all the way up to her clit. There, he stops and flattens his tongue against it, laving it with long, firm strokes along its sides, sending surges of urgently needed pleasure climbing up from the nerve endings encased in that tiny bundle straight to her brain. She starts to moan openly, to sing long, wailing sounds that tear with abandon from deep inside her belly, rising through her throat and spilling out of her mouth like a chorus. He wraps his mouth around her clit, keeping his tongue pressurized against it, and begins to suck, working her nerves raw, pulling the euphoria right out of her in threads with his mouth. Tifa drops her hands to his hair and tangles her fingers in his fluffy yellow spikes, scraping her nails across his scalp, pulling him against her as she grinds her pussy against his face. Cloud doesn’t relent, letting her push up on him as she chases the release he’s been keeping her from. She cries out his name when she feels it growing closer, and she arches her back, begging him, _suck, baby, please_ , she’s so close. He works her through it, never letting go, and as he pulls at her with his lips, Tifa feels herself finally reach the edge, a pure white space, and she crashes into it as the high peaks, breaking her in half, his name sliding from her lips at a fever pitch as it tears her insides asunder. Cloud holds her firm and squeezes her flesh, keeping his lips to her, not moving until she stops screaming and crying, until she has ridden the wave of pleasure and the lightning has completely tore through her and left every nerve ending raw in its wake. Tifa begins to writhe and push at his head, aflame with over-sensitivity, and finally Cloud takes the hint and stops, pulling away from her, his mouth shining.

Tifa is red all over, and she feels the heat under the surface of her skin flaring, feels it charring her bones. Fresh tears, ones of elation, stream over her face, coating the frustrated ones that had dried on her skin just a little while ago. Her pussy is throbbing deliciously under him, its every nerve ending still sending aftershocks of her orgasm back to her brain. She is alight, her body awash with jubilation over what is most certainly the most mind-blowing sexual liberation she’s ever experienced. 

Cloud’s moving away from her as her eyes fall heavy-lidded, and she watches him under her lashes as he kicks away his sweatpants and shorts next to the bed. Seeing his cock spring free - long, thick, and veiny, precum dripping from its head - Tifa realizes how long he’s been holding himself back just so that he could stretch her to the limits like this. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, a new wave of warm longing filtering through every part of her being as she feels his weight knee into the mattress, senses him slide towards her and hover over her, caging her between his arms.

She opens her eyes to find him watching her face inquisitively, his head tilted slightly, his eyes, now a calm, ultramarine, searching her gently. When hers flutter open, his lip curves into a slight smile, and he dips his head to kiss her tenderly, slipping his tongue just past her teeth, tangling with hers for a moment before he pulls away again.

“You feeling okay?” he asks her, low and sweet. She looks down to see he’s got his dick in his fist.

Tifa nods at him, her smile brightening for him, the affection building in her eyes like heaps of sugary red strawberry candies. They sparkle and shine at him, and Cloud’s smile widens.

“Can I…”

“Fuck me,” she cuts him off.

Cloud says nothing, just positions himself on his knees between her, lifting her hips up slightly so that her bottom rests against them, and he can fold her ankles back by her head, angling her open and spreading her wide for him. He slides the head of his dick against her folds, causing Tifa to shiver, and she glances up at him, watching him with amorous reverence. After an interlude of sliding across her thick, pillowy slit, Cloud plunges inside of her, throttling himself up to the hilt, and grasps the undersides of her hips in his hands, fingers digging a fresh, new layer of divots into her flesh above the ones he imprinted there earlier.

Tifa hears herself begin a mantra of his name, interspersed by the hymn of her moans and breathy gasps as he begins to drive himself into her with a steady and deep pace, twisting his hips in a roll with each thrust, stabbing at the sweet spot inside of her that makes her crazy, makes her sing his praises, makes her grateful to be alive, makes her love him forever. He slams into her, beginning his own chant of moans and growls and rasps of her name, and Tifa opens her eyes to watch him as he begins to unravel with her, and he reaches forward to grab her hand, interlocking their fingers just as they interlock their eyes. They cry out together as he moves, his other hand still holding her hips tight and flush against his, and he waits until he sees her fall apart first and collapse through the flashing, sparkling bright space that is nothing but a void of ecstasy that they have built together as they’ve grown first to know each other’s hearts in the last six years and each other’s bodies in the last two. As Tifa cries forlornly through the zenith, squeezing a death grip on his hand and nearly snapping his joints, Cloud joins her, emptying himself deep inside of her.

It’s moments later when he collapses on top of her, and all Tifa can hear is the sounds of their ragged, labored breathing, the faint whir of the ceiling fan, and the gentle thrum of the rain against the windows, dying down to a hum outside. She trembles beneath him, curling her fingers through his hair, the joy from her second explosive orgasm sending oxytocin shooting through her brain like the firefight of an ambush.

Cloud recovers after a moment, shaking his head out, and lifts himself above her on his elbows, dropping a tender, loving kiss to her lips. She relishes it, dines in the sweetness of his lips which still tastes a little bit like whiskey but mostly like her own honeyed, tangy arousal. He lifts himself away from her, then pats her rear gently before he stands to pull his sweats back on.

“I’ll be right back,” he vows before he steps out of the bedroom.

Tifa stretches across the bed, listening to the rain, feeling her heartbeat finally slow into a normal pace. The flush of her body is beginning to fade, but the warmth that’s inside of her lingers, and as soon as he’s gone, she misses him terribly. Lying alone in the dark, she begins to feel the blooms of soreness from his bites, his grips, his playful slaps. She savors each sensation, hoping that there aren’t marks tomorrow in visible places that will invite too much speculation.

Cloud returns soon with a glass of cold water, a towel, and a small bottle in his hand. He hands her the glass, and Tifa sits up, drinking, almost draining it before she stops and offers the rest to him, causing him to smile. He drinks it and sets it aside, then gently pushes her down by her shoulders, encouraging her to lay back on the pillow.

“Just try to relax, okay Teef?” he beckons her, and everything about his demeanor is soft and caring and loving and warm. Tifa closes her eyes, feels him wipe between her legs with the towel, carefully parting her thighs so he can clean her thoroughly. Then she hears him pop the cap of the bottle, and soon his hands are spreading warm lotion into her flesh, starting with her legs and thighs, running over the bite marks and bruises he left, then rolling her to her stomach, rubbing the cream into the curves of her bottom, soothing her flesh there before riding up her back and massaging her muscles fully, digging his fingertips to alleviate both the tension of their lovemaking and the stress of her daily labor. She basks in his care, sighing when she feels him gently squeeze her flesh as he rolls her over and caresses and soothes the front of her body, and she’s in love, so in love, she could die here and now and never have any regrets.

Cloud finishes massaging her down and cleans everything up, and Tifa curls under the covers, facing the window, sleepy and satiated, feeling herself being lulled by the gentle titters of rain outside. Soon, he’s climbing into bed behind her, fully naked again, spooning her and pulling her in close against him. She can feel his fresh erection stirring behind her curves, but she says nothing, and just smiles to herself.

Cloud’s mouth is next to her ear, his breath warm.“You’re mine,” he says.

Tifa thinks about this, pressing back against his body, and shifts and turns her head a little back towards him so their eyes can meet. She swallows; after the night they shared, she doesn’t think a lack of boldness on her part is quite so fitting anymore, and she wants more. She realizes now that with Cloud, she will always want more. 

“I’m your what?”

He pauses at that, letting a long moment pace and stretch between them. Tifa’s heart starts to pick up pace, thundering loudly, equal parts thrill and dread. 

“You’re my… I don’t know, Tifa. You’re not my girlfriend. You’re more than that. You’re… my other half.”

Tifa smiles at that, gripping his hand where it’s locked firmly against her belly. She accepts that, wears it on her heart. It’s better than _together_ , maybe even better than _wife_.

“Same,” she affirms, squeezing his hand, rocking back on him. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

She feels Cloud smile against her neck, and then he’s pulling his hand away from hers, lifting her thigh gently with it, sliding himself inside of her again, rocking them both deep until they rise and fall once more, calling to each other and crying themselves to sleep.

* * *

It’s three and a half weeks later when Tifa is standing over the bathroom sink, staring at the pink strips, learning that she’s pregnant.

It’s three and a half hours later when Cloud comes home to a prematurely closed bar, striding through the door, only to have her pull him to the side, her hands folded around his waist when she tells him.

It’s thirty seconds later when Cloud begins to weep with joy, and begs her to marry him.

It’s three seconds later when Tifa agrees.

FIN

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> ...I am not responsible for my actions.


End file.
